


Sopor

by Ashstriferous



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashstriferous/pseuds/Ashstriferous
Summary: Drifter doesn't sleep. Shin thinks he looks pretty rough when he doesn't. For Guard/Protect prompt for ActualHurry's ShinDrift week.





	Sopor

**Author's Note:**

> i busted out my dead, five year old ao3 for this. i'll regret it in the morning. follow me on /ashstriferous on twitter.

Drifter doesn’t sleep, or at least he hasn’t since he managed to drag himself back to Earth. Even lightyears away from that hellplanet of light-sucking monsters, he still can’t help but wonder what lurked in the shadows when he closed his eyes. He certainly doesn’t trust his ghost nowadays, not that he ever did. Best it can do nowadays is drag him back when Drifter chases the hallucinations away with a bullet to the temple. 

Still, the thought of sleep clings heavily to his mind as he slumps over onto his bed, spent from his third orgasm of the night. Beside him, Shin Malphur is panting, one hand tangled in his own hair, the other clutching the sheets beneath him. His abdomen is splattered with come, the sight of which briefly makes Drifter’s mouth water, at least until the still present warmth in his gut reminds him that he’s already had his fill. 

It’s typical for them to lay in silence after they’ve finally spent themselves. For Drifter, it’s because there isn’t much to say. Shin, on the other hand, always seems like he has _too much_ to say. Tonight isn’t the first time Drifter’s caught sight of a little pinch between Shin’s brows. And if Drifter’s right, then it’s only a matter of time before the corner of his mouth twitches with words unspoken and -- 

As expected, Shin sits up. His steps are careful as he makes his way to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Drifter stared after him, smirk spreading across his lips. He had often said (growled, really, preferably directly into Shin’s ear) that he wouldn’t be satisfied until the hunter couldn’t walk straight.

He was nothing if not a man of his word.

It would be some time before Shin finished sulking, before he chased away whatever thoughts were gnawing at his mind. In the meanwhile, Drifter gets comfortable. The bed in his tiny little annex apartment rarely gets much use, at least not when Shin isn’t around. Part of Drifter finds himself wondering if the bed had always been this comfortable. The rest of him is convinced that it’s simply the seventh sleepless night talking.

He has to admit that the night has taken its toll on him. Shin was nothing if not an enthusiastic lover, always eager to have Drifter’s hands on him and desperate for him not to stop. Drifter supposed it wasn’t all that surprising that it took more than one orgasm to quell the fire of the man with the golden gun. He _definitely_ wasn’t complaining about it, either.

Still, as a heavy weight settled into Drifter’s bones, he couldn’t help but feel as he’d pushed himself a little too far. Even now, the idea of cleaning himself up and getting back to work seemed a herculean task. It would have been far simpler to simply close his eyes and --

The bathroom door opens and Drifter quickly props himself up anew. Shin stares back at him, an infuriatingly soft look settling onto his own exhausted features. Drifter narrows his eyes back at the man, hoping to scare off whatever sort of sentiment the hunter was thinking about bringing into the bedroom. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he finally says. Drifter relaxes just a hint. Mission accomplished.

“Wasn’t sleepin’,” he shoots back. Sleeping when some sort of shadowed beast was crawling around in his periphery was one thing. Leaving himself vulnerable in the presence of Shin fucking Malphur? Drifter would have had better luck coating himself in vex milk and basking in the Mercury sunrise. 

Shin takes the hint and doesn’t say anything further. This, too, is part of their routine. Any minute now, he’ll trot over his discarded pile of clothes and armor and redress himself. The helmet will go on, transforming Shin Malphur into the faceless Renegade that Drifter had foolishly aligned himself with. Not long after that, he’ll transmat himself out of Drifter’s hair and leave him to his business.

Only he doesn’t trot over to his clothes. Instead, he returns to the bed and sits back down. Drifter goes back to glowering up at him, only this time his efforts go unheeded.

“‘Look worse than I do.” Shin’s voice is rough with something, maybe even multiple somethings. It does something odd to Drifter’s gut, gives him a feeling even worse than when he’d tried to make ether soup.

“Sounds impossible,” Drifter shoots back. Shin responds with only a soft noise, a laugh barely above the sound of a sigh. 

With his glare proving altogether useless, Drifter instead shifts his gaze to a wall. If surly glances aren’t enough to chase Shin off, he’ll simply ignore the man. With luck, Shin will get bored and leave without another word. 

With luck. Only Drifter hasn’t been so lucky lately. Instead of standing to leave, Shin lays back down beside him. Drifter barely has the time to open his mouth to complain (loudly, thank you), before a hand shoots out. He tenses up, half-expecting the hunter to simply rip his throat out with his fingernails. 

Instead, that hand twists itself within his hair. 

“‘The hell are you -- ” Drifter starts, only to quickly be shushed by Shin. He opens his mouth again to protest, but the slow drag of a nail against his sensitive scalp chases any thoughts he had from his mind.

“Not gonna be able to get any work done if you’re falling asleep on the job.” Shin says. Drifter thinks to respond with a tart _I don’t sleep,_ but once again, those fingernails chase any cohesive thoughts from the rogue’s mind. 

Drifter isn’t sure how long it continues for. His thoughts start to blur together, slurred by the warm thrills that Shin’s touch elicits. Drifter thinks about leaning his head away more than once, but the gravity in the room, somehow increased tenfold ever since Shin had sat down, keeps him pinned. He counts his eyelids lowering five separate times. On four different occasions, Drifter snaps them back open, each time just a little slower than the last.

On the fifth, though, his eyes remain closed.

The next thing he knows, Shin is moving. He cracks open an eyelid in time to see Shin lifting up his gun. Panic seizes him, but with exhaustion having settled so heavily into his body, he finds he’s simply unable to scramble away. Instead, he’s forced to watch as Shin brings the gun close to the two of them, waiting for what feels like an agonizingly long time for that final shot to ring out. 

But it doesn’t. Instead, Shin rests the gun against a bare thigh. The muzzle is pointed away from Drifter, instead pointed at the triple-locked door not far from their vantage point. He glances up at Shin, unable to summon the energy to not look dumbfounded. Shin shrugs off the look, but his pinched brow and twitching mouth say all Drifter needs to hear.

He’ll give the hunter hell about it in the morning. For now, Drifter can feel not just seven days worth of insomnia kicking in, but a span of sleepless years chained together by gunshots and rezzes. He closes his eyes once more, and once more, they fail to open.


End file.
